


Where Honor Lies

by AnonEhouse



Category: Ladyhawke (1985)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:05:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/AnonEhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a backstory taking place before canonical events. It's seen through the eyes of a very minor character. Francesco was noticeably in the movie for about half a minute, and said about two words. He deserved more than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Honor Lies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aleksanteri](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Aleksanteri).



(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

"Francesco!"

Recognizing the voice, Francesco looked up from brushing his horse in the guards' stable. He replied, "Etienne, I'm in here." There were boys to do the work, of course, but a good knight formed a bond with his horse. You could only depend on what you knew, as he depended on his fellow guards and his sword because he knew their flaws and their strengths.

The captain of the guard entered the stall. His face was white and his hands trembled.

The horse sidled away, snorting. Francesco calmed it with a hand on its neck while looking at his friend in puzzlement. The captain was never upset; he was the calmest man in Aquila, able to take any situation in stride.

"I need your help, Francesco."

"Of course; you have it, Captain Navarre."

"I am asking you as a friend, not ordering you as your captain." As if to calm himself, Etienne visibly took a deep breath. "I must leave Aquila."

"Leave? But why?"

Etienne's eyes searched Francesco's. "I... I don't think it would be safe for you to know." He shook his head. "I shouldn't have asked you. It's our trouble, not yours."

"Ours?" To prevent him leaving Francesco put his hand on Etienne's arm. "Who else shares this trouble?"

"Isabeau," Etienne said softly. "His Grace, the Bishop, will probably accuse me of stealing her away against her will. It would be best if you didn't dispute that."

"You and Isabeau?" Thinking back, Francesco added up all the times he'd seen the captain's stern face soften in Isabeau's presence, how she'd made him laugh, how awkward he had been whenever her name was mentioned.

Etienne nodded. "Isabeau and I... we were to wed. The Bishop..."

The Bishop was the authority in Aquila, the authority Francesco had sworn to uphold, no matter how little he thought of him as a man. "The Bishop disapproved?"

"You could say that." Again, Etienne shook his head, like a horse trying to dislodge an infuriating insect. "The order for my arrest will be announced any moment." His face went cold. "We were betrayed by the one man we'd trusted."

Trying to decide where honor lay, Francesco considered the matter. It was a difficult decision. Etienne was his friend and commander, while His Grace the Bishop was a symbol of an even higher law that Francesco was sworn to uphold. But what law had been broken? He should also bear in mind that it wasn't his place to decide what His Grace the Bishop would wish him to do, was it? That would surely be presumptuous.

"No one has told me that you are no longer my captain." He went into the next stall and began harnessing Etienne's charger. "I will prepare your horse for you. I don't ask your mission. Perhaps you are merely going out to exercise. The captain is not required to explain himself to me."

"Goliath is swift," Etienne said, "but when the order comes to pursue, we will be run down."

Francesco grinned. "Not after I give the other horses a well-salted mash, followed by all the water they wish. It will do them no harm, but they'll run like pregnant cattle." He finished saddling and bridling Goliath.

"Thank you, Francesco."

"Go and get your lady, my friend. I have horses to care for." Francesco mimed throwing a blow at Etienne, who laughed and blocked it before briefly embracing him.

"Take care, Francesco. The Bishop must never know."

"I am only a guard, His Grace doesn't talk to me." Francesco began preparing the mash.

 

****** 

 

There had been confusion among the guards when the order came declaring their Captain outlaw to be hunted. Then more confusion followed when His Grace, the Bishop, had declared he would personally accompany the guards. During the first day on the trail Marquez seemed to have promoted himself to Captain, interceding to pass on the Bishop's instructions. Francesco kept his opinion on the matter to himself, but he would not have chosen to be the Bishop's dog. There was too much boot-licking and being kicked for his taste.

He added wood to the cooking fire, and adjusted spitted hares over it. His Grace was in his tent, having given orders that none was to disturb him. That was an order Francesco was more than willing to obey. As the days of the hunt wore on, the look in His Grace the Bishop's eye had become more and more frightening.

"Did I ever tell you about the time the Captain and I came across a pack of brigands in the hills?" Francesco said to the men gathered wearily around the fire. They were tired of chasing a man who'd once been one of them, and more than a little unnerved by the thought that he'd been the best of them. Every opportunity Francesco seized to add to Navarre's legend found them more pensive. Thinking too much before a battle weakens the sword arm, Navarre had once told him. "The Captain had his sword out and sliced through the lot of them like fresh cheese. He left hardly any for me."

There was a grim silence around the fire.

"Ah, well, a man's got his duty," Francesco said cheerfully as he turned the hares and fed the fire. "There are enough of us to drag the Captain down, wolf though he be."

The muttering around the fire halted, and Francesco looked up, uneasily, to see the Bishop standing behind him. "Your Grace!" Francesco knelt hastily.

"So, you think Navarre a wolf." The Bishop sounded cold and thoughtful. For some reason, the hair on the back of Francesco's neck rose. "And you think my guards cannot catch this wolf."

"Your Grace, we obey your commands. We will capture Captain Navarre and the girl." Francesco held his tongue from adding that it would not happen any time soon. "Navarre's horse will tire, and he cannot commandeer fresh mounts as we can."

"Yes, but when? I cannot leave Aquila ungoverned for months!"

"We will do all that men can do, Your Grace."

The Bishop's eyes, gray as sleet and just as cold, stared right through Francesco. "It is not enough. I will not allow that wolf to have my beautiful bird. If men cannot prevent it, then I shall seek others to do my bidding." He turned and went into his tent, scattering monks and acolytes right and left.

Francesco shivered as the Bishop's voice rose in words he could not understand. If they were Latin, they were words God had condemned. He saw the monk Imperious fall to his knees just beyond the tent and cross himself, his lips moving in silent prayer.

The night sky grew darker as bloated fungus-shaped clouds covered the moon and blotted out the stars. There were smells... indescribable smells far worse than an abattoir or privy closet. The horses screamed and pulled at their tethers. Francesco and the other guards gathered together in a tight knot, swords drawn and held against something... something they could not see, but that felt like insects with unclean feet crawling over their skin.

The air sang like a million furious bees, and a blast of icy cold swirled around their feet. Dirty gray fog looped in lazy coils, covering what little they could see.

Then everything went silent; there was not even the clink of bit or soft thud of hoof against turf. Francesco could hear nothing, not even his own breathing. He stood, trembling, so frightened that he knew if he moved, he would run until his heart burst.

The fire flared up and burnt the hares to cinders, the smell of burnt flesh almost wholesome in comparison to the previous stench.

The silence lasted only a few seconds... then a sound of infinite pain and grief rose, faint with distance. Wolf, Francesco thought, it is only a wolf.

Gradually the clouds thinned and the night returned to normal. Without saying anything, the men put away their weapons and went to tend the sweating and shivering horses. When the Bishop emerged from his tent a few minutes later and announced that they were going back to Aquila in the morning, Francesco wondered at the smile that twisted his thin lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my lovely Beta readers- Between them, my trusty band of Betas caught typos and errors in punctuation, paragraphing, grammar, illogic and also pointed out overuse of character's names and boring sentence structure and other foibles. Any errata that remain I undoubtedly added after Betaing.
> 
> I've listed in them in the order I received their helpful comments.  
> [Linda_joyce](http://linda_joyce.livejournal.com)  
> [Kalinda001](http://kalinda001.livejournal.com)  
> [Vilakins](http://vilakins.livejournal.com)  
> [SallyMn](http://sallymn.livejournal.com)


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